Chapter 18: Inquiries

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Kishimoto-sensei in any way, shape or form, and I do not own the few Latin quotes that will pop out here and there. I however own the plot and the Ocs, as well as the description of some places and the characterization of some less-known characters in the original anime/manga.

To Lala: Thank you for the kind reviews! I really wanted to answer your questions but somehow the reply link wasn't there, so I'll do it here.

You have asked about what Naruto was. To put it simply, after using so much of Kyuubi's chakra, she had started to 'merge' with Kurama. It would have happened to previous hosts too (Mito and Kushina), but they hadn't ever used the Kyuubi's chakra and only Naruto's seal had been designed to leak a bit of Kurama's chakra into her system. The process has been sped up by the time travel as well – and another factor, though I won't tell you right now because it's part of the plot and I've only been giving hints up until now :D But it's related to Shiro – or Minato – so you can try to guess!

A/N: I'm sorry this is so short, but it's been a long while since I updated and if I carried on I wouldn't be able to stop before going over 10k, which is awfully long for a single chapter. Oh well, it just means that the next chapter will be entirely dedicated to Sasuke/Sakumo goodness XP

-Konoha, merchant district-

The streets were much quieter after sunset, colored dark with twilight.

The last few late-running shops had closed their doors an hour prior, leaving the usually overcrowded district eerily empty. The citizens had already retreated into the safety and comfort of their homes.

Shadows seemed to linger out in the open. A quiet breeze sneaked between the buildings, brushing away dust and frolicking about the streets. The chill of the night-time had already crept into the air, chasing away the remaining autumn heat.

It was time for the unseen to come out.

Suddenly a dark shape landed on the rooftop of a two-stories building, then jumped away, and repeated the process a few times until it reached the fountain in the middle of the merchant district of Konoha. The tall structure left just enough space for the figure to stand on, undisturbed by the wind.

It paused, like a midnight monolith, then tilted in the slightest way towards its left.

There was a flash of bone white, like a million stars dulled and compacted by thin air, and another shadow came to join the first. It twisted its long limbs not unlike a predator stretching its legs, until it began to form signs with blurring fingers.

'Clear.'

The first ANBU, female by the subtle curve of her chest under her breastplate and the leaner muscles of her arms, replied with signs of her own, the dark shapes of her hands veiled by her gloves painted as black as night. A silent conversation was shared briefly until another ANBU landed underneath them, right above the fountain's clear, still waters.

The pair stared inquiringly at the newcomer, shoulders tense, but a small wave of his hand managed to unravel their tension.

'All clear. Replacement.'

Hachidori acknowledged the statement before turning to his teammate, signing for them to leave before leaping to the nearest rooftop. If his movement was too controlled to be natural, none mentioned it.

Wind ruffled their light coats as they ran and jumped, bodies bent low and arms at their sides for increased velocity.

Velocity and silence, skills that marched hand in hand with the existence of shinobi.

Velocity because without speed you can still be a shinobi, perhaps even a good one, but never great because being a shinobi is about running faster and faster and faster than everyone and never once looking back. Because speed is what made legends, and speed is also what makes time run away quicker and legends die earlier.

Silence, because that was what shinobi incarnated. Silence was dread, danger, and obscurity. Shinobi were dangerous and strong and rarely gentle, unnaturally beautiful in the way they drank in the cover of the night. Because a loudmouth in their career would only get themselves killed. It was either live or die, give or take, and give meant death and take – well, they said that being a shinobi for too long changes you irrevocably.

Velocity and silence and they ran, Hachidori's steps humming in haste and Himei in cold indifference, dispassionate but all too aware of the other.

But gradually, noticeable in its nervous, jerky motions, Hachidori slowed down. The rapid footsteps soon – too soon – became a small trod. 'Jumpy,' Himei noted. Eventually, they came to a halt.

The silence grew thick then, heavy with an edge of something akin to the paranoia on missions gone wrong, yet different but nonetheless tense.

If apprehension had a taste, then Himei was sure it would have been similar to the dryness of her throat and the churning of her stomach, the pasty layer coating her tongue and the hypersensitivity her skin seemed to be affected with.

The redhead knew that this probably wasn't the best moment to discuss anything, not with her present state of mind. Or rather state of insanity, really, and the little fiasco earlier with Sasuke wasn't helping either. Himei had to beat that particularly persistent memory back, since by the tightening in her chest it would be better for anyone if she didn't think of that anytime soon.

She grimaced. 'Might as well get this over with quickly.'

"Hachidori-taichou. Is there anything of importance?"

Her answer was the startling gaze of a dark blue thunderstorm, narrowed with a seriousness she didn't know the man could extricate. She found herself pinned to the ground – rooftop – by those eyes, legs refusing to bulge even as her mind screamed for her to do something, because the wind spelled danger and even if it was irrational her needle-sharp instincts were much too in tune with her entire being for her to ignore.

For a second Himei doubted if this man was the same who blushed and stammered so easily when they had met.

(She refused to think of their first meeting, because it was happiness wrapped in the Kyubi's rage and hatred and the scent of lavender tinted blood – Hinata – )

"I believe so."

And her breath was stolen from her as the slanted form of the man perched on the inclined roof straightened, tall and menacing under the moonlight. Because even if ANBU were creatures of the night Himei was still a being of daylight, sunshine and warmth and fire no less dangerous than darkness, and it was bewildering, unthinkable, that another could be just like her. A head full of summer crops and the distinctive smell of heat, yet eyes so cold and piercingly blue it was heart-wrenchingly familiar.

Suddenly she felt trapped, captured by the midnight breeze and the closing walls of a waxing moon. It was bright, so bright, and goosebumps rose on the few patches of naked skin left to the torture of the icy storm. The heat grew closer still, blindingly charming, and Himei was enamored like a moth to a flame.

'This is not good,' her mind stressed, but even as the thought appeared it left her in a rush of desperate air.

She felt like she was suffocating.

'Not good, not good, not good, why are you so close leave me alone hateyouhateyouhateyou don't leave-'

And finally she jerked away as a hand reached out to her, stumbling backwards clumsily and feet coated with chakra catching a tile at the last moment possible.

But she couldn't quite stop the tile from cracking under her weight and the force of her chakra, and so she found herself falling and spiraling down with a choked yelp.

Consciously Himei gathered as much chakra as she dared on her back, knowing that she didn't nearly have enough time to twist around and land properly without breaking a bones or two. But just as she was about to close her eyes she caught a flash of purple-painted mask impossibly close, a spike of chakra bright and distressed with the barest hint of relief.

"Idiot-!" She had the time to gasp before strong arms pulled her into a warm hold, their breastplates colliding in a noisy clank as they were flipped upside down.

'Fast', Himei thought, before her vision was colored black and tremors shook her entire frame, the aftershock of tumbling to the ground from a three-stories building making her ears ring. Her chest burned as the air had been knocked out of her, and she hacked and coughed until she was able to wheeze in much needed oxygen.

A groan interrupted her suffering, and she hastily sat up and looked down to the sight of her captain laying under her, mask askew and uniform dirty. But what caught her attention was the face revealed to her, thin brows drawn together and nose scrunched up in a frown, lips pulled down as a clear grimace of pain. His respiration was too irregular and laborious to be anywhere near comfortable.

'He's hurt-! But he shouldn't – never not because of me – he's strong so whywhywhy-'

Taking care of injured, stubborn teammates refusing help and taking a nasty fall as a result was hardly uncommon. It should come easy to her, but instead Himei found herself panicking as her mind steadily went blank, her knowledge all but unavailable even as she knew she had dealt with this before.

So she waited, part helpless and part bewildered by the man who had so readily saved her, watching Hachidori heave even as he remained scarily still – and was immensely relieved when blue orbs cracked open to peer at her.

"You alright?" Himei asked, sill breathless despite her efforts to calm down.

Minato groaned again and threw an arm over his eyes, rolling slightly to the side and Himei's heart skipped a beat – it shouldn't, a part of her screamed and yelled at her. It was too quiet even as a buzz of frenzied thoughts rolled around in her mind. Her breath hitched when she felt the blond shift under her.

She realized with dawning horror that she was still sitting on the man, straddling his waist and she must have moved up at some point because she was pretty sure she'd been on his legs before and-

Minato shifted back, all but staring at her, eyes narrowed and hair tousled with his ANBU vest sliding up his stomach.

Her brain refused to work after that.

She must have passed out then, but she couldn't be too sure.

She was back in her room.

Not alone.

And it wasn't Sasuke's chakra.

"Finally up?"

The deep tone jolted Himei awake. Not quite baritone but not quite light, sounding as if strained and slightly awkward. A man was in her home. How had he gone past the barrier seals? She was about to roll out of bed when a chuckle, so breathtakingly warm, stilled her.

"I hope you don't mind me deactivating your seals. I put them back already. Beautiful work, I have to say."

Himei sighed, finally recognizing the other's chakra signature. "Captain."

"We're off duty, call me Minato."

"Minato-taichou."

"I said Minato! You can drop the honorifics already."

"…"

The blond made a nondescript noise. Himei turned her head to see him sitting on the couch, arms thrown into the air in exasperation and face bare. A glint of amusement shone in his eyes. A quick scan of the room and Himei noted that nothing had been moved, except the hummingbird mask propped onto her table.

"So, what are you doing in my room?"

The Namikaze scratched his nose, flushing slightly. Himei wouldn't have seen it if not for her Kyubi-highlighted senses, and she was glad she still had her mask on because the scent of heat and sunshine brought back an entire set of memories she'd rather forget.

"Well, you had frozen up on me, and I couldn't really leave you there but you refused to bulge, so I had to knock you out. Then I thought that I might as well bring you back to your place, and, ah – I confirmed you room number with the check-in list in the hall downstairs, so here we are."

Himei took a few seconds to process the information, then smirked in delight. "So you stole the check-in list from the front desk just to know my room number?"

"Borrowed! I borrowed it. There's nothing stating I couldn't borrow it," he replied, but the slight flush of his cheeks betrayed him.

The redhead snorted, "If you say so."

(It was okay. She was talking, she was displaying amusement as she should be. She wasn't choking. She wasn't screaming. She wasn't dying. It was okay. She was okay.)

Her team leader sniffed. "You don't believe me?" He even inclined his head and looked at her with widened eyes, lips set firmly in a pout, all crocodile tears and kicked-puppy look.

An incredulous moment was shared until Minato couldn't hold it anymore and burst out laughing.

Himei stared harder.

(Sakura was laughing, head thrown back and strands of ashen pink hair framing her delicate face thinned by hunger, laughing merrily as if without a single worry, until her voice grew weaker, weaker still, and time must have stopped in that singular moment as she became a corpse too, frozen in that beautiful laughter.)

Minato had curled up on the couch, head thrown back and shoulders trembling. A few more seconds passed before the blond dared to look up again, only to crumble in a heap on the floor, clenching his jacket so hard his knuckles had turned white.

Himei blinked. "Minato, you-"

She couldn't continue as Minato's mad chuckles drowned out her voice. The Uzumaki patiently waited. And waited. And waited. When the blond didn't seem to be anywhere near done, she lifted herself up from the bed and marched toward him with a mischievous streak in her movements.

"Minato?" When the man didn't as much as answer her she grinned evilly and smacked him on the back. Hard.

"Wha-" Finally his eyes met her gaze, but suddenly he hunched forward, muscles tensing and a shuddering gasp at his mouth.

"Revenge for taking down my seals without asking, if you're wondering."

Himei gleefully settled on the couch and watched as Minato unsuccessfully tried to grab at whatever she had slapped onto his back, his cheeks flushed and pupils dilated, breaths coming out in pants.

"What are you-"

"It's a seal. Do you like it?"

Her reply was a nonsensical grumble, and darkened orbs stared at her accusingly behind thick, golden lashes. Himei had to consciously pry her gaze away.

"It was designed to enhance one's senses to unbearable levels, kinda like when we remove part of your skin and it lights up all your nerve endings, be it pain or pleasure. Without the bloody part of course, but the result is pretty much the same. Well, at least that's the idea. The seal is still not complete."

Himei leaned forward, ignoring Minato's almost silent moans of complaint, until she was sure the blond would be able to hear her breathing against her mask as she spoke, "You see, I've only managed to make the pleasurable half of the sensation spectrum work."

Minato squeaked, as undignified as the sound can be, then blushed even harder. He quickly scrambled away, hands still clutching at his ANBU vest in a valiant attempt to take off the paper tag, but Himei had strategically placed it right where the blond wouldn't be able to reach.

She wondered how long it'll take him to figure out he only had to take his vest off. But the seconds tickled by, and all she saw were some rather impressive flexibility exercises that she had to twist her mind around, because it's one thing to touch the back of her own neck with her elbow in her daily stretching and another to watch someone else do it.

She had forgotten how strange it looked.

A minute later, Himei asked herself if it had been such a good idea.

It had started as an attempt to shut the man up, since the seal had been the only thing available short of kicking him in the guts. Convenient, too, because it had satisfied her urge to finally prank someone – those small things during the war didn't count, like the misplaced bucket of water or the occasional and inexplicable wardrobe swaps, because they were less out of personal desire and much more of a duty to keep the moral up in the ranks.

Really, it had absolutely nothing to do with the seal's ability to dim pain by stimulating the production of endorphin.

Somehow, in all that grandiose, harmless plan, the redhead had failed to include the strength of Minato's response, nor consider the extents of her own… reactions.

Therefore, Himei found herself trapped between an increasingly uncomfortable couch and the unwillingly motivated man writhing on her floor. She debated taking the seal off herself, but she'd likely risk getting slapped in the face by a wayward limb more than successfully remove the tag.

(Lee rolling on the ground, long and strong limbs twisted in pain as a silent scream escaped torn vocal cords – )

A harsh pant had her eyes snapping back to the blond.

A single look at him and she felt a part of her dying, for it was a sight she wished she'd never set her eyes on – wild blond hair a shade darker than her own had once been, skin slightly tanned peeking out from where his skin-tight ANBU tank top had ridden up – and then Minato twisted again, throwing his head back as his hand reached behind his back again, the smallest stripe of skin between his jaw and the turtle neck – and Himei's mind trashed around and cried out as she found herself growling, fingernails lengthening under her gloves and canines digging into her lower lip as they grew larger.

Her heartbeat quickened when her sharp teeth pierced through the skin, and she licked up the blood lavishly.

Himei noted, without putting much thought into it, that her hunger had grown exponentially larger the past few weeks, ever since she had been thrown willingly into the past.

A deep rumble rolled from her chest, heavy and powerful, yet calming like a tiger would chuff to its cubs. Halfway between a growl and a purr, the sound impregnated the air, buds of red and yellow saturating the atmosphere.

The scent was of a predator.

Minato stopped moving, frozen by the intent of killkillkill and sheer want. Not entirely killing intent because it was denser, thick with a carnal desire and blood-lust he couldn't comprehend, and it was all wrong because it should be move in and kill and not sound like come to me it's safe. All upside down, for he should be getting away and running and never coming back but he couldn't, as if his body refused to abide.

All bad and almost cruel because he couldn't think and he didn't know if it was just him or the tag slapped onto his back, if the shivers were because of fear or the cold of the floor against his naked side or something else entirely.

A warm hand pressed against his cheek, and suddenly Minato felt lightheaded as if the world has turned on its axis. Almost just as quickly lightning sharp pain pressed into his limbs.

It felt like molten heat being poured into his veins, coursing through his body and lighting up his nerves and making sparkles dance on his skin. A gentle touch brushed his back between his shoulder blades, and distantly he heard the tearing sound of paper.

Suddenly it stopped.

Minato's eyes snapped open, wild and hazy, and Himei stared back, just as confused.

A warm fluid trickled down his neck, and Minato didn't have to look to know what it was.

Blood.

Himei gasped as her hand flew to her mouth, disappearing under her mask only to come out stained with red. Minato noted her dilated pupils, the panicked fluctuation of her breathes, the paper tag with a ripped seal still clutched in her hand. Suddenly she jerked away and backpedaled until her back hit the farthest wall.

"Ah, this, I – sorry, I mean, I didn't mean to, I'm really, really sorry, I, Kami sorry -"

Minato only fixed her with the silent order of explain even as his vision swam and his head throbbed, and Himei all but sagged against the wall. The blond lifted an eyebrow, unimpressed, but Himei stubbornly remained where she was, not really standing but not quite relaxed, head bowed and limbs trembling like a cornered animal.

"Look, I'm really sorry, and, and – fuck, I know that it probably hurts like hell and it's fucked up and I'm really, truly sorry, and I couldn't help it because you, you –"

Absentmindedly, Minato lifted a hand and tapped the puncture wounds on his neck carefully. It didn't hurt as much now that the initial shock had subsided, the wounds shallow enough to heal without any scarring even with his limited medical knowledge.

He inhaled deeply, putting away the doubt and the instinctive need to react before he did something drastic. "It's… well, not really alright, but, if you explain, I'm sure I'll listen to your reasons."

Himei looked up, uncharacteristically shy, "You're… not angry?"

She flinched at Minato's sharp gaze. "Oh, right, stupid question. Of course you're angry."

"Well, shinobi tend to get angry when someone comes that close to tearing their throat out, you know. But, well – you weren't trying to kill me, or at least I hope so, and it wasn't … too bad."

The redhead nodded, still wary. "You, just, it wasn't? I guess, well…Umm…"

Minato took a look at her panicked stance and relaxed slightly. "Just explain and I'll make my judgement after."

Himei bit her lips again, gnawing at the flesh worryingly, reopening the small wound from where her canine had pierced through earlier, but she couldn't bring herself to care. "It isn't… that easy."

Minato hummed, "Just start from the beginning."

"At least let's sit down for this? It might take a while."

Minato consented with a nod and plopped back onto the couch. He looked at his teammate expectantly. Himei shuffled awkwardly for a bit before she sighed in resignation and sat down beside him, pressing herself against the armrest a safe distance away from the blond.

"You already know about how I change into a more… feral mindset during a battle, right? It's actually a bit more complicated than simply turning a switch on and off. It's more like I detect different stimuli, such as the smell of blood or killing intent, and my body reacts accordingly. Usually I snap out of it with a good work out – such as, ah, a chase, like hunting – but when I can't do that I turn to…"

"Blood?"

Himei nodded. "Yes. I guess. It's hard to explain, but it's kind of like eating the prey after hunting which simultaneously means that the chase is over, that kind of thing."

Minato took a moment to digest the information. It really wasn't that hard to believe, what with feral clans such as the Inuzuka running around, mostly proficient hunters and trackers. "So earlier, it was because of the leftover adrenaline of falling from the rooftop? And since I knocked you out you didn't have the opportunity to calm down?" He guessed.

"Not exactly. It certainly played a part, but…" Himei shifted uncomfortably, "It was more the… scent. Your scent."

Minato immediately turned his head and sniffed his shoulder. "I smell? But I washed my uniform last night…"

Himei held in a chuckle at the unexpectedly cute reaction. "No, not like that. Just… when I put that tag on you – sorry for that, wasn't the brightest idea I ever had – you reacted like that and you smelled like, well…" the last part was mumbled at best and Minato wasn't quite sure he heard what he thought he did.

"Care to repeat that again?"

The redhead stammered a little before whispering, "Prey. In heat." She turned her masked face away, but Minato caught the scarlet flush on the tip of her ears.

He blinked, then blushed when the full meaning of the admission hit him. "Ah, that, the… effects, of your seal? So you reacted to, hmm…" He couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence.

"The scent. It has never happened before, but I guess it's because the people I've tested the seal on had reeked of fear, and it had drowned out the pleasure part. But you… I can't really describe it, but my mind kind of just went… blank. For a while all I was thinking was that you were… a good choice. As a partner."

An awkward silence followed, Minato not knowing what to say when the redhead basically admitted to perceiving him as a potential mate – voluntarily or not.

"I… see." He really didn't, but Minato figured that it was something akin to tunnel vision all high-ranking shinobi tend to suffer from occasionally, where your mind revolved around little else than completing the mission for a few seconds during the heat of battle.

Himei sighed. "As I said, I'm sorry, I usually don't lose control like that. I swear to never let it happen again." She turned her head away, and Minato caught the slight tilt of her chin, a kind of bone-deep sadness that could almost be defined as forlorn.

It made him wonder if something had happened before.

"Alright. However, it has the potential of becoming extremely dangerous. As your team captain, I need to make sure that it can be controlled somehow." It pained him to say such harsh words when his teammate was obviously distressed, but he was ANBU, a captain, and it was his duty to ensure the safety of his team.

The redheaded ANBU nodded stiffly, visibly displeased. "I understand. I already have a… fix, if it can be called that. My bloodlust is usually kept in check."

"And this… fix, will they be able to calm you down should anything happen?"

Himei twitched, but conceded, "She's ANBU." Her tone was borderline aggressive, but Minato let it slide.

After all, he was reminded of a fluid grace and the sleek black coat of a panther, coiling tension behind long limbs and slender muscles, and an odd fondness behind the rough voice of his other teammate.

'Getsumei,' he realized, and the seemingly age-old connection between Himei and Getsumei wasn't so puzzling anymore.

His epiphany must have shown through his countenance, for Himei huffed and turned back toward him, sharp eyes scrutinizing him. Apparently satisfied with what she saw – not that Minato had the slightest clue about what she was looking for – she stood up and stretched languidly.

"Well, that was a bit tiring. Up for grabbing a snack, captain?"

The abrupt change in mannerism had Minato chuckling. "Right after you. And call me Minato."

Himei smiled beneath her mask, all sharp teeth and feral with the edge of a hunter ensnarling its prey. "Aye, captain."

As they exited the ANBU's private quarters, Himei dragging him along, Minato was hit with the empty scent of the headquarters, fake and dark as if nothing existed there, but it only made the lingering odors of heat and fur clearer to his nose.

He wondered suddenly about a redhead with a fiery personality and a cheekiness that bled into arrogance. 'Uzu,' he thought, with her grins and her exuberant professionalism, the smooth way she spoke the tongue of old, and his eyes widened as finally the pieces clicked together.

Uzu and Karasu, Himei and Getsumei, not quite as different as light and darkness but rather patches of grey and blood red.

Slowly, surely, the whirls of fate turned.